By Cecelia Minard

Pointe du Hoc is a coastal World War II site in Normandy, France known for its series of German bunkers and machine gun posts, which were captured by US troops on D-Day after scaling the steep cliffs. This site had a more profound impact on me than anywhere I visited in France. Covered in craters from Allied bombs, Pointe du Hoc struck me with emotions that I at first could not understand. I felt a deep serenity but also an existential insignificance that was simultaneously comforting and terrifying. I branched off from the group to sit alone, hoping to understand what I was feeling. Looking around at dozens of bomb craters, the decrepit German bunker, and the cliff the US troops scaled, I found myself overwhelmed by the contrast of nature and this memorialization of destruction. Grass and wildflowers have filled the craters since the invasion, making them appear almost natural; the interior walls of the bunker have grown over with lichen and moss, making them an earthy green color.

Reflecting on the destruction of the past as I looked around in the present, I felt the lasting power of nature in comparison to human insignificance. Man may have brought destruction to this beautiful seaside site a few decades ago, but what does that destruction mean to the earth? The earth continued to grow and reclaim, almost as if we do not exist. Pointe du Hoc provided me the tranquility to see what happens in the wake of destruction.

That serenity came to me in this thought process: nature will come back and reclaim the earth. There is the possibility that humans will cause our own extinction, but there is comfort in the fact that the earth will continuously foster life. As important as we believe ourselves to be, we are an ephemeral blip on this planet. 

However, that does not mean that nothing in the present should matter to us at all or that humans should only ever serve their own interests. This is clearly untrue; humans are complex and caring organisms. There is a tension between the meaninglessness of our lives and those very lives being the only thing that has any meaning to us at all. While Pointe du Hoc made me think about the impermanence of human suffering, I recognize the importance of human events to those who experienced them and the lasting impact of them for future generations, even though the earth will erase our suffering with time.

Through my studies of the Second World War, I better understand the extent of man’s capacity for destruction and cruelty, while also recognizing its insignificance. Visiting Point du Hoc brought me comfort in recognizing our own futility as well as the power of nature.

Historians Blog

My final project in Spring semester was a study on Paris under the occupation. Parisians suffered increased intervention from the government in their daily lives, including the German occupying forces. The Memorial de Caen provided a comprehensive exhibit dedicated to World War II, which enhanced my understanding through its display of war’s effect on a nation and its people. It also corroborated my research on specific topics such as how French citizens bore food shortages and the prisoner of war camps.

United States Naval Monument Utah Beach

The Memorial de Caen also showed that France has a problem truly assessing the character of its occupation. I found significant facts omitted regarding the French Jewish experience during World War II. The museum seldom acknowledged that the Vichy collaborationist regime played an active role in Jewish suffering, ignoring the 38,000 who were rounded-up by French police and deported to Auschwitz in 1942, including 13,000 men, women, and children detained during Operation Spring Wind in July of that year. This was the largest round-up of Jews that occurred in France.

Remnants from bombing at Omaha Beach

I found a general absence of accountability throughout France with regards to the collaboration. My experience at the Memorial de Caen exemplified the issues in gaining an unbiased historical account of a country’s experience during war. France praised resisters who fought against German occupation, but this clouds the reality that many French citizens were either collaborative or appeased the Vichy regime, including those who actively carried out violence, such as the French police. The evident French difficulties with honesty positioned me to be more attentive to how the U.S. handles dark moments in our history, such as how we grapple with slavery or Native American removals. It demonstrates the challenge nations have in balancing pride while accepting truth and faults.

Vengeance and Remembrance: Monuments in France Relating to the Slapton Sands Disaster

Historian’s Blog

Erik Ehrenfeld

     On that night of April 28, 1944 off the coast of Slapton Sands England, German E-boat fast attack craft ambushed a convoy of American LST landing ships during Exercise Tiger—a simulated landing for the upcoming invasion of Utah beach on June 6, 1944. The Germans torpedoed three LSTs, sinking two. Overall, almost one thousand American soldiers and sailors lost their lives in the tragedy while the German raiders escaped unscathed.

     While in France, I discovered several monuments and displays relating to the Slapton Sands tragedy. Each site reflected the context of its location and highlighted emotions of either vengeance or remembrance. Most of the memorials to the participating units on Utah beach highlighted the invasion and the liberation of France.

Although many of these units also took part in Exercise Tiger, the Slapton Sands memorial consisted of a small plaque that did not mention the German attack and cited the incorrect date in the English section.

Nevertheless, these same honored units later captured the E-boat base at Cherbourg, which suggested that their landing at Utah beach led to a measure of revenge against their previous naval enemies.

     In contrast, the visitor center at the American cemetery of Colleville-sur-Mer focused on honoring those lost. The inclusion of a small display on Slapton Sands proved that the curators of the visitor center valued the lives of those lost during Exercise Tiger as much as those who fell during the battle of Normandy.

Finally, the display claimed that the loss of life on April 28^th was not in vain, as the Americans learned hard lessons during the exercise that saved lives on D-Day. In short, the memorials in France presented the Slapton Sands tragedy as either a disaster that required vengeance or a somber reminder of the cost of war.

Memorializing and commemorating the dead, good or evil, has been a practice that runs centuriesold. France harbors some of the most beautiful cemeteries I have ever visited. Throughout my life I have spent years researching and finding new cemeteries, and with my Transnational History of WWII group, I got the chance to explore the American Military Cemetery and the La Cambe German War Cemetery, where Nazis are buried, in France (see images below). In every cemetery I visit, I try to enter with an unbiased broad view of those beneath my feet and allow myself to be drawn to specific graves instead of seeking them. I have observed that many people hold biased opinions in cemeteries which promotes hostility.
First, as a woman from a strong Jewish descent, I somehow still felt at peace in the German
As we moved onto the American Cemetery, where graves could not be approached without
special authorization, many of my peers spoke about how moving the cemetery and the experience was. I was mind-blown. We knew nothing about these men besides their names and what country they died for cemetery. I did not feel hate for the men who lay below my feet, some as young as sixteen, because these men were merely sons, fathers, husbands, and brothers who were surrounded by a toxic culture that infiltrated their mind. They believed to be fighting for their country’s freedom due to immense propaganda and brainwashing. What was unsettling to me was the reaction of my peers. They scowled through the German cemetery and asked questions like “why are we even here?” “I don’t want to be somewhere with Nazis.” The only thing I felt was sympathy towards the German soldiers, men with memories and lives dehumanized by those around me who claim dehumanization is wrong.
yet there was so much bias presented. Moving through to the American cemetery I was unable to approach the plots but still noticed something very telling.
The American cemetery buried its dead facing East and only East. In the German cemetery the heads of the people were buried facing North and South. If the ground permits, Christianity suggests the dead be buried facing East. Scripture states that the second coming of Christ will be from the East so the dead should meet Him face-to-face. Jewish individuals are supposed to be buried facing west to face Israel but they, too, were buried looking eastward in the American War Cemetery. As for the Germans, I know of no religious affiliation with burying someone facing North and South. I feel the goal of the cemetery designers was to keep it as plain and unbiased as possible in order to not seem to be glorifying their deaths. I feel the overall experience at these cemeteries altered my brain by reminding me to continue to view life as something so fragile and sometimes used on the wrong purposes.

German Cemetery

American Cemetery

Kids. Of the twenty thousand German soldiers buried at La Cambe German War Cemetery in Normandy, France, many were kids. Younger than me, living in a much crazier world than me, and influenced by evils incomprehensible to me. Why was the Nazi army so dependent on kids in the final stretch of the war, and should I mourn for them?

Many of the young boys who had been interacting with the Hitler Youth, the systematic effort to expose children to the ideologies and policies of the Third Reich, were of age to fight by the final years of the war. Kids from the Hitler Youth comprised most of the 12th SS Panzer Division, and they quickly unleashed a fierce rage upon their opponents, leaving civilians raped, towns pillaged, and prisoners massacred.

While I firmly believe many of these young soldiers were fervent Nazis themselves, I also recognize that some children, even those who spent almost a decade in the Hitler Youth, were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was rarely a child’s choice if they joined the Hitler Youth – their parents made that decision – and there was a whirlwind of influences that parents dealt with when they made such a choice. Given this nuance, how can I blame a child for his  response to the surrounding environment?

As I moved through the cemetery I thought of these circumstances and attempted to pull pieces of humanity out of the soldiers who lay there. But I questioned why I was trying so hard to find humanity in folks that – as far as I am concerned – refused to see any humanity in me. I was silent, wiping tears from my eyes as I read the graves of young men, unsure if I should mourn the loss of life when their demise might be the reason why I am alive. Ultimately, I couldn’t mourn the death of the soldiers in the German cemetery, not even the kids. A piece of me holds each of them responsible for their own actions regardless of the wild environment they grew up in. That same internal voice tells me that I would not be here if they were, even the sweet, young boys filled with amazing potential before being brainwashed by Nazi rage. I feel like my life is on the line when I wonder about theirs, and every time I must pick mine.

By  comparison, the serenity of the Normandy American Cemetery conveyed  reverence, respect, and admiration.  I felt as if  the sacrifice of these American soldiers guaranteed my life. The clean, white stone at the American cemetery created a serene feeling compared to the dark gray stone that covered the German cemetery, a stormy and gloomy look. Both cemeteries invoked emotion and gratitude, ultimately reminding me of those that came before me and how their deaths, unfortunate or not, gives me the opportunity to live.

           It’s interesting to view how history has been preserved and appreciated as time goes on. After learning so much about WWII, it was a surreal experience to be able to see the places we talked about and to step foot on the same land that so many soldiers risked their lives on.

            When the attack on Omaha Beach was occurring, German troops were hunting the Americans on the beaches from bunkers up in the bluffs of Point du Hoc. Systematically bombed before the landing, the area was quite literally a battle field strewn with explosions, guns, and bodies. Now, the bomb craters  are filled with grass and greenery, and the German bunkers are becoming rubble overtaken by nature. One thing that is still pretty much the same is the inside of the German bunkers that are still standing. When walking inside the bunker, I could see  bullet holes and small indentations made by grenades all throughout the surrounding walls. The wood on the ceiling is still charred, burned by flamethrowers, and you can look outside of viewpoints that the Germans once used to watch the Americans storming the beaches. Being able to stand in the same place where a Nazi soldier once had stood watch was a haunting experience. But it really helped me to put all that I’ve learned about the D-Day invasion into perspective.

            When I was walking the beaches, all I could think about was the weight of the sacrifices made here. While we were walking through a bunker, there was a group of about fifteen high school kids touring aside us. Despite the violence that happened here, they made jokes about shooting people and even made a TikTok of themselves re-enacting being shot against the wall.  They were simply disrespectful. When thinking about it more, I wonder if this “joke” shows how a historical site may become trivial to some as time passes. There were no bodies left on the land, no active fighting, and today we are raised around violence as entertainment. I wonder if this makes it hard to have the same appreciation for history, and whether these kids were simply uneducated about the horrors that occurred exactly where they were standing or whether they simply didn’t care.

            Being able to stand in the same place where something so horribly important happened allowed me to have a better grasp on what I’ve learned while studying WWII. Seeing different reactions to a place like this brings up the question of whether or not these locations will be properly respected as time passes, or if contemporary social media will make it a trivial site of exploitation and dark comedy.

I had never been to Paris before coming on this trip, and the images in my mind had come from movies like Ratatouille and Midnight in Paris: a romantic city of lights with an enticing charisma. After roaming through the city center and seeing what it has to offer, I can say that that city definitely exists, but so does another that can be best summed up by what Linguini, the rat-controlled rising chef, says in Ratatouille while in a drunken stupor: Rat-patootie.

Evening in Paris

The city certainly has a majesty that exemplifies Parisian life. Cafés stand on every street corner, and impressive gothic buildings surround the Seine, which is dotted with stone bridges, some of which are very ornate, like the Pont Alexander III. The Louvre is a sight to behold, and I found myself admiring both the interior and exterior architecture as much as the paintings themselves.

The ceiling facades at the Louvre

However, there was another Paris that I experienced, one that felt like an ugly dose of reality. The poor, deteriorated air quality left my nose and throat a scratchy, volatile mess. I witnessed two examples of public urination in places with high foot traffic. Our coach driver into the city, Jean Louis, pointed to a homeless encampment crammed between the street and highway and said, “This is Paris.” The street edges were littered with cigarette butts, and annoying tourist scams clogged major sites like the Louvre and Eiffel Tower.

Paris has a distinct and well-known reputation for romance and grandeur, but my time there served as a reminder that the city is still a crowded urban center. It suffers from the same issues that affect other major tourist cities. But it also confirmed that the city has a flare that separates it from the rest. Despite all the rat-patootie, the energy of the city was exciting and alluring and I find it difficult to say that I will never come back and dine again.

Throughout the nine days the group spent in France, it was evident that the nation still has not come to terms with World War II. From the Mémorial de Caen to Les Invalides in Paris,  French museums attempted to create a narrative that resistance membership was not only omnipresent but was also successful. Most egregious, near the end of the Mémorial de Caen, a paragraph states “with or without the help of Allied forces, most of France had been liberated by August and September 1944.”

Pictured: the aforementioned quote at the Mémorial de Caen

While it is true that the resistance grew after the Allied Invasion of Normandy, minimizing the impact of the Allies in liberating France is completely dishonest. At Les Invalides, an English language poster welcoming the Allies to France was displayed. Though perhaps the French wanted to show the Allies that they supported their cause, one of its statements is also completely false. The poster states “each Frenchman, according to the means at his disposal, resisted the German oppression.” As the Nazi-aligned Vichy Regime existed, being the de jure government of much of France for a period in the war, collaboration was present and somewhat common among French people.

Pictured: aforementioned poster at Les Invalides

France’s desire to display continued support for the Allied cause is logical. As the impact of Nazi crimes and genocide throughout Europe became evident, French people made an attempt to distance themselves from the truth of their collaboration. Creating a narrative that relies on two central, opposing figures, Charles de Gaulle and Philippe Pétain, France attempts to create a story that aligns with its pre- and post-war republican values.  Claiming a widespread resistance movement inspired by Charles de Gaulle’s speech allows the French museums to convey that their people chose the moral side behind a strong, unifying leader. Additionally, pinning the most brutal French collaboration on Philippe Pétain allows France to downplay their amount of collaboration with Germany. Though both are inaccurate descriptions, it is logical that a historical and modern hub of democratic ideals desires to paint this picture of their wartime experience. France is a nation that is proud of its culture and history, the created wartime narrative allows the nation to be proud of something at arguably its weakest national period. Regardless, France should accurately depict its wartime experience rather than inaccurately inflating the participation of its citizens in a minority, albeit moral, movement.

Pictured: Arc de Triomphe, a national landmark of France